"I feel marooned in this body,
Deserted, my organs can go on without me"
—Panic! at the Disco, "Trade Mistakes"

please don't break down
when you see what we looked like today,
my thighs say as i walk home,
rotting petals littering the ground,
but it's not our fault
you chose to wear those shorts.

girl, you look in the mirror
wishing you were skinnier—

that's like telling your favorite rock
you wish it were a meteorite instead.

never thought i’d love
you, but, you know, since when were
expectations met?

was going into that small Iceland diner
with only wool socks over black leggings
on my skinny tanned shins
(red Converse, soaked with saltwater,
still drying in the rental car,
sticky licorice jammed between seats).

Don't remember what I ordered,
only remember the way the waitress
smiled at me, in spite of my feet.
I felt so strongly that I was breaking
an unspoken rule—little did I know
how many I'd break in the months to come.

This is when I feel in tune with my body,
no longer that feeling of desertedness—
breath slow, tongue in cheek, eyes caught
on the waving branches of the trees
outside my open window, air warm.

when you met my eyes:
stomach crashed into heart,
played ribs like guitar strings
on the way up my chest